


Here With You

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Exhibitionism, M/M, Master/Servant, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24599254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: He knows it’s her. She's getting closer. He’s spent hours memorizing those footfalls, the sharp click of heels as she would pace and pace and ramble while he sat by Kamukura’s heel.“Keep going,” Kamukura says and Komaeda squares himself, sinking back down and taking Kamukura’s cock into his mouth once more.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 7
Kudos: 242





	Here With You

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute and i could have probably made it longer BUT i am tired of looking at it so just take komaeda sucking kamukura off while he's literally in the middle of having a conversation w enoshima. thank u, so sorry

He’s so focused on his task that the sound of her footsteps doesn’t reach his ears until she’s close. Close enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.   
Komaeda pulls away, wide eyed in panic, locking onto the door to their hotel room in his peripheral. He knows it’s her. She’s getting closer. He’s spent hours memorizing those footfalls, the sharp click of heels as she would pace and pace and ramble while he sat by Kamukura’s heel. 

“Keep going,” Kamukura says and the even, gentle tone of his voice has the tension melting out of Komaeda’s shoulders. Tension he hadn’t even realized was there. The hand in his hair moves downward, cupping his cheek and brushing against his jawline- it’s not forceful, not at all. It’s soft and reassuring and guiding and Komaeda squares himself, sinking back down and taking Kamukura’s cock into his mouth once more. 

For a few, heavy moments, there is only the sound of slick wetness and her muffled footsteps down the hall until she throws the door open. He can ignore her. He can ignore her just like he can ignore the strain in his own pants because there are much more important things in front of him.

“You stole from my room,” Enoshima’s words are level and Kamukura’s stare is just as even, seated unflinching in his chair. He doesn’t even bother to look down to where Komaeda is kneeling on the floor between his knees, bobbing his head up and down in a steady rhythm. 

Kamukura tilts his head. “A baseless accusation.”

“You-“ she frowns, crossing her arms and her eyes narrow. Komaeda can feel the glare on his back since he’s facing away from her but he prefers to focus on the hot, hard weight of Kamukura’s cock on his tongue. “You’re just going to let your little whore keep doing that in the middle of our conversation? Seriously?”

“You’re the one who interrupted.” 

The huff she lets out is a false one, just as fake as those crocodile tears she somehow manages to spill whenever it is convenient. Turns her body half away, kicks the carpet dejectedly, and Komaeda thinks that if his luck was kind, maybe the heel of her boot would miraculously snap and she’d go down stumbling. 

But his luck has never been kind. 

He’s learned that silence from her is never a good thing. That she does her worst plotting inside that fucked up mind of hers but he does his best to ignore it, to leave the tense strain out of his muscles, to keep his jaw slack so he can take in as much of Kamukura as possible. It’s disheartening to have such little response to his actions, but Komaeda is also no stranger to working for what he wants. 

Kamukura’s pointer finger traces up the line of his cheekbone, brushes a strand of hair out of the way, and even if he’s still not granting Komaeda the gift of being looked at, the gesture would make Komaeda go weak in the knees if he wasn’t already on the floor. A simple touch is so distracting. 

So distracting that he doesn’t hear the rustle of fabric behind him, doesn’t notice the way Kamukura’s eyes are lit up by a curiosity, and it’s only when a sharp, whizzing sound fills the air does he realize something is amiss. 

“I _needed that_!” is the high-pitched yell that resonates through the room as the dagger sails toward Kamukura, and of course he tilts his head casually out of the way, but when it buries itself in the wall behind his head violently, Komaeda flinches. 

“Teeth-“ Kamukura warns and Komaeda pulls off with a rushed ‘sorry’, only to sink back down but now he’s trembling for an entirely different reason. 

“It took me months to find that- you’re setting all my plans back!” Enoshima spits, because of course she’s still grilling Kamukura on whatever it is he’s lifted from her room. “Who knows if I’ll be able to find another one! This ruins everything! Such…”

She’s drooling. Sweating. A faint flush on her cheeks as she brings her hands up by her face, fingers curling and uncurling reflexively. Komaeda doesn’t even have to look to know. It’s ringing plain in the sound of her voice that she’s overwhelmed in

“Such despair!” 

“You’re welcome,” Kamukura says monotonously as he reaches behind himself with the hand that’s not busy guiding Komaeda up and down- fisted tightly in white strands hard enough to make him tear up now- and pulls the knife out of the wall. Sends it hurling across the air in return and it lands in the doorframe.  
An invitation to leave. 

Her heels carry her across the carpet and if Komaeda was listening more closely he might hear her muttering, but he’s not. It’s his internal monologue that’s playing on loop. 

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._ Because Kamukura has gifted him pain. Has gifted him guidance. Has given him something to focus on in order to ease his trembling because he’s a failure of a servant who can’t help but quake and lose himself in her wretched presence but Kamukura has been patient with him over and over again, even if he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Hey,” Enoshima’s voice is a clean line, cutting through his thoughts as she pauses in the doorway. He knows by the tone that these next words are for him. “I made you what you are. Don’t forget that.” 

Komaeda stills. 

Her footsteps fade away. 

He’s nothing. And she’s right. He wouldn’t be what he is without her, without the despair he’s come so well to know. To love. And to hate. 

“You’re hesitating,” Kamukura calls him out on it, lifts Komaeda off his cock with an obscene sound and suddenly Komaeda feels very dazed. 

“Sorry,” the apology is automatic. When doesn’t Komaeda have something to apologize for?

“Tell me why.” 

“I flinched. I faltered. I’ve failed you. I should have done better. I should have been able to ignore her, to trust in you.” 

“That is how she operates,” Kamukura reminds him. He decidedly does not comment on Komaeda’s incapabilities. Only on her. It stings. 

Letting out a desperate whine, Komaeda shifts his head forward. Kamukura’s hand is still tangled in his hair but his grip has gone slack enough that Komaeda can move. Brushes his cheek along the shaft of Kamukura’s length, nuzzles it, smearing the drying saliva along his face and whimpers again, eyes half lidded. He’s so pathetically needy. 

Junko’s made him who he is. Formed and shaped like clay, casted in an ugly, cracked mould- the only kind he could ever hope to fill. But it’s here that he’s found his true purpose. His hope. In serving the man above him. 

“Would you like to continue?” 

“Yes, please.”

And Komaeda swallows him down again without any hesitation. 


End file.
